


blind to the purpose of the brute divine (but you were mine)

by halftheway



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beauyasha if you squint, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Jester is an artist, Male Pronouns for Mollymauk Tealeaf, Multi, Reunions, Temporary Character Death, background beaujester - Freeform, gratuitous use of fantasy german, he gets resurrected though it's Fine, molly dies and jester copes by Painting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halftheway/pseuds/halftheway
Summary: Jester paints, and Caleb watches, and it seems like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.(spoiler alert: what breaks the silence is molly being resurrected)
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast (eventual), Jester Lavorre/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Jester Lavorre/Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	1. that ever has loved me (pt i)

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in a nebulous au that’s slightly canon divergent which means i am on episode 8 but have seen so much plot stuff online that i am picking and choosing what to include (and also i don’t know most of the finer details of big events) xoxo
> 
> fic & chapter titles from better love by hozier

After Mollymauk’s death, they don’t quite know what to do. Jester quietly suggests heading to Nicodranas, pointing out that her mother could house them all, at least for a little while, and no one argues. The journey to the southwest is uneventful, mostly, though they do run into a few familiar faces along the way. Explaining to old friends and allies why Molly isn’t present is a long, painful process, and when they finally reach the city, the Nein is grateful for the respite.

Jester has always carried a sadness with her, though it rarely made an appearance, but since Molly died it seems to have overtaken her. She spends the first few days with her mother, locked away from the rest of them, and when she emerges, she’s not the same; she’s stiller now, doesn’t say much to them. They let her have her quiet, unsure of how else to help her.

The past week or so has passed in a fog, and the Nein, who have obviously always excelled at communication and processing emotions, has drifted apart somewhat. Everyone is dealing in their own ways- or Caleb assumes they are. Yasha has been gone for some time now. As soon as she had the chance, she’d taken off without a word to the others. She’s opened up more over time, they all have, but she still tends to isolate herself instead of leaning on them for support, and for something like this… Caleb can’t judge her, he’s had the same impulse many times. He often wonders when the instinct to flee will subside; more than once, he’s been tempted to take off in the middle of the night, go back to shouldering his grief on his own, but. His place is here, with his family.

He finds Beau and Nott drinking together late into the night more often than not, pointedly talking about anything but Molly. None of them are strangers to loss, but neither do they know what to do or say about this. Sometimes conversation will brush up against the Molly-shaped space they pretend isn’t there, and they’ll fall silent. It’s a sick sort of homage, when he thinks about it: Molly’s first instinct in times of stress had always been to seek drink or smoke; now that he’s gone, half the group is drinking their days away.

Caleb willjoin them on occasion, when the ache for company outweighs his desire to isolate. When he does, Nott will half-heartedly ask how his spells are going, and he’ll pat her shoulder and tell her they’re going well. The truth is that he hasn’t touched a spellbook since Mollymauk died, but he doesn’t want her to be unduly concerned. His magic is still there, he can feel it if he reaches for it, he just… can’t bring himself to use it. He makes an exception for Frumpkin, of course, but for the most part, nothing.

While the rest of his friends sleep off their hangovers, Caleb tends to find quiet corners to sit in, holding his cat and trying very hard not to think. On one of these days, Jester passes by him several times, carting a ladder, a tarp, and several buckets. He cannot fathom what she could be doing with all that, and eventually follows her, curious.

She’s stationed in front of one of the exterior walls of the chateau with a rather impressive setup. With all the materials together it’s more clear that she’s preparing to paint the wall, what’s less apparent is why. Caleb leans against a tree nearby and waits, though for what he isn’t sure; if she’s noticed his presence, she doesn’t give any indication. Instead, she sits on the ground, starts methodically mixing paints. When she finally begins, it takes several hours for Caleb to realize what she’s doing. It isn’t until the face of a sun appears, a skull beside it, that he understands. A tribute to Molly.

Days pass and the mural becomes bigger, and Jester becomes more and more paint stained as she adds more and more details. It starts with the sun, a replica of the tattoo on Molly’s back, and spreads across the wall as she works: twin peacocks frame the center, a familiar snake winds its way through countless tiny embellishments that are perfectly arranged to form larger symbols, only some of which Caleb recognizes. With all the time they’d spent on the road, Jester had never had a chance to showcase her skills like this. This mural is intricate and beautiful and so very Molly that it makes Caleb ache. She’s pouring so much care and dedication into it, and it shows.

The Nein lets her work because they don’t know what else to do with this new, silent Jester.

Caleb sits against the wall opposite her and watches most days. They fall into an unspoken routine: He’ll cast Light on something nearby as the sun begins to set, to give her just a bit more time, and when they die down he’ll approach her, offer his hand. (He’s learned that if he doesn’t, she’ll work through the night without rest.) She’ll accept, let him take her inside. He brings her food and makes sure she eats, leads her to bed, and stays until she falls asleep.

While she sleeps, he cleans her brushes and leaves them to dry, swaps out the dirty paint water for clean water, and it’s not much, he knows it, but it’s what he can do for her. And taking care of Jester, maybe that’s how he copes with Molly’s absence.

There’s a distance now, one that used to be filled by Molly, and he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

Having her mother’s undivided attention is something Jester has wanted for so long, but she thinks it’s cruel that this is how she gets it. Still, her presence is an immense comfort; from the moment she’d crawled into her mother’s bed, Marion had held her close and sang her lullabies, and she feels a bit better.

When she can’t sleep, Jester tells stories about Molly. It’s the most she’s spoken since he died, but she feels like she just has to tell her mom everything, like it’s the next best thing since she never got to meet him.

“One of his horns was pierced, can you believe it? And gods, he had so much jewelry on them, Mom, so sparkly,” she says, pointing to a drawing of him in her sketchbook. Marion hums appreciatively. “And one time, we were on the road after we fought all these gnolls- me and Molly put their ears in my pickle jar, for money- these bandits tried to rob us, but they were, like, so bad, and Molly scared them so good, and then he gave them some money and told them not to fuck with us.”

“He sounds wonderful, darling,” Marion says, and Jester nods, suddenly running out of steam.

“He really was,” she says. He’s been gone for weeks, now, and she’s only just getting used to using past tense. Hates using it, actually. “Do you think he could come back?”

“Stranger things have certainly happened,” Marion answers after a moment’s pause. "Why?"

“Because I don’t think- I don’t feel like myself without him, Mom,” says Jester, and tears start to prick at her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… It feels like, there was part of me that was made just for loving Molly,” she says, tracing a finger along the drawing of him in her sketchbook. “And he’s gone now, and I don’t know if that part is gone too, and if it is, does hat change me?”

“Of course not,” Marion says. She gently closes the book in Jester’s lap and draws her into an embrace. “You were Jester long before you met Molly, and you’ll be Jester for a very long time. But just because he’s gone, that doesn’t mean your love for him disappears.”

“Am I going to feel like this forever?”

“A little bit.” Jester lets out a little wail at the prospect, but Marion hushes her and strokes her hair a bit before continuing. “When you lose someone you love, no matter how it happens, it’s going to hurt very bad for a good while.”

“It hurts,” she agrees, burying her face into her mother’s neck.

“And that’s perfectly natural, Jester. Grief is a complicated thing.” She kisses Jester’s cheek and holds her out at arm’s length. “It doesn’t go away, you’re not going to wake up one day and feel better. But carrying this weight… it gets easier, over time. A bit sooner, if you have people to help shoulder the burden.”

She doesn’t miss the pointed look Marion throws her way. “I just don’t feel… ready, yet. To talk about it, not with them.”

Marion nods. “You don’t have to right away. But your friends love you, darling, remember that.”


	2. that ever has loved me (pt ii)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pt 2 of what is technically all one chapter (originaly it was 2.4k words but for the sake of narrative flow i split it up oops) i hope u enjoy !!

Sometimes when Caleb heads out to the wall where Jester has been working in the morning, he finds Beau already there, leaning into Jester’s side as they wait for the sun to rise, playing with her hair or rubbing her back. Those are the days Caleb leaves. What Jester and Beau share has always been quiet, personal- different than what she and Caleb have- _had_ , with Molly; he won’t intrude.

There had been something like that between him and Jester, before. Molly had always teased them about it, bragged to the rest of the group that his partners were so wonderful they couldn’t help but fall in love with each other, and Caleb had always blushed and ducked his head while Jester laughed and stuck her tongue out at Molly. As much as he’d poked fun, Molly had never pushed either of them to talk about their feelings, which Caleb had been thankful for. Now, though, he wishes he had. The idea of acting on those feelings now feels… wrong, somehow.

Their new companion spends a good deal of his time with Fjord- or, rather, Fjord spends most of his time with Caduceus. He seeks the cleric out constantly, asking questions about his goddess, what his service to her is like, how she influences the world. Seeking answers, Caleb supposes, which Caduceus does his best to patiently provide. He often comes across them in the library when he’s looking for a quiet place in the middle of the night, discussing faith and duty, and tonight is evidently no different.

He pauses in the doorway when he hears Fjord speaking, and peers into the room. They’re sitting in chairs opposite each other, Caduceus appearing relaxed, sitting back in his chair, holding a teacup and saucer. Fjord, however, is tense, leaning in, chin resting on his hand as he looks at Caduceus intently.

“-sure that spell- what was it?”

“Decompose,” answers Caduceus, taking a sip of his tea.

“Right, yeah. You’re sure that won’t- you don’t think it would… is it still-?” Fjord gestures helplessly between them, and Caduceus, calm as ever, watches him. He sees that Caduceus won’t finish his sentence for him and makes a small noise of frustration before taking a deep breath. “Is there a chance we could get him back?”

Caduceus pauses before answering, a low rumble sounding in his chest as he thinks. Caleb isn’t sure if it’s a firbolg thing or a Caduceus thing, but the noise is a strange comfort.

“The requirements for resurrection weren’t affected,” he says finally. “Finding a competent necromancer may be a different story.”

“But can it be done?” Fjord’s voice is low, urgent, and Caleb finds himself leaning further into the room, almost as desperate for the answer.

It doesn’t come. Caduceus doesn’t reply, or at least not verbally, and Caleb doesn’t want to push his luck eavesdropping any longer.

Exhausted, he returns to the room he’s been sharing with Nott. She’s sprawled across the bed, though takes up no more than a quarter of it, snoring softly, and Frumpkin is curled at her side. Caleb absently scratches behind his familiar’s ears as he watches her sleep. He begins to undress for bed- though he hasn’t properly slept in days, Nott doesn’t need to know that- and ruminates on the conversation he’d overheard.

They’d taken the gold to pay for his eventual resurrection, but he doesn’t even know where they’d look for a necromancer, nor how expensive it would be. He’s lost so much, so many people he’s loved, and Molly being one of them is something he hadn’t prepared for. The vague idea of bringing Mollymauk back someday has been something of a dam for his grief, and Caduceus’ lack of an answer to Fjord’s question has cracked it.

Jester paints, and Caleb watches, and it seems like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.

They’ve been in Nicodranas for nearly a month when Jester finishes her mural. She’d spent the entire time she worked praying: to the Traveler, to the Moonweaver, to any god she could think of, legal or not, to give her a way to bring Molly back. She hopes this, the act of creation in loving memory, will help sway any deity that may hear her; after all, what is it if not a giant offering? Caleb has been watching and helping her out, Beau too- but for the most part she hasn’t interacted with anyone much, too focused on her work. 

Growing up the way she did meant she’d never had to cope with loss like this, and this mural is the one thing that’s helped her feel less like her heart is irreparably shattered. When she’s done, she wipes her paint-stained hands on her skirt, and sits heavily on the ground before it, staring up at her work.

Every time she comes home she’ll have a piece of Mollymauk with her, and no one in this town will ever forget about him.

She wonders briefly if any other places will let her do more Molly murals, but her train of thought is interrupted by someone sitting beside her.

“It’s beautiful,” Caleb says. He doesn’t sling an arm around her, doesn't call her _darling_ like Molly would have, only looks up at her work, and she tries not to fault him for it.

“He’d love this,” he continues, gesturing at the wall.

She knows he would.

“He’ll see it soon,” she says quietly. Caleb is surprised, she can tell, though she doesn’t look at him. She hasn’t spoken to anyone but her mom since she started the mural, not really. She doesn’t know why. It just hadn’t felt right until now, with Caleb at her side and this monument to their Molly in front of them. “It wasn’t his time.”

“Mollymauk has always walked a fine line,” Caleb says. “I don’t think even the Raven Queen knew when his time was until it came.”

“No,” she says, frowning. “He wasn’t supposed to go yet. I can find somebody, or ask the Traveller.”

Caleb doesn’t answer.

“I’m going to get him back,” she says firmly.

“If anyone can, it would be you,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear 2 god this fic is going to have some happiness in it soon. on GOD bro we gon get u some fluff.


	3. that beckons above me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of these days i will give y'all chapters on a consistent schedule i swear! but until then,,,,

Mollymauk wakes in a grave for the second time.

It’s more of an annoyance than anything at this point, he thinks, as he fights his way out of the ground again. Warm sun hits his face and he blinks, disoriented. It was winter, wasn’t it? A glance around what appears to be a graveyard reveals there’s no one around to ask.

He runs his hands over his body in a quick cursory examination and doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary: arms, legs, horns, tail all there. Body’s fine, then. Tattoos next, most of which are intact, or as much as they can be with the scars still covering most of his skin. 

There’s a new one in the center of his chest though, and he runs his fingers over it as he tries to recall where he was before here. It’s not like it was before, he can remember the circus, remember Yasha, lovely Yasha, and travelling with the Mighty Nein, and Beau, and Fjord and Nott and- 

“Caleb,” he says, then grimaces. His voice is grating, even to his own ears, but at least he can speak this time. “Jester,” he tries, clearing his throat a few times.

Gods,  _ Jester _ . Last he could knew, she’d still been captured, with Fjord and Yasha. He has no idea if she’s alive- if any of them are, for that matter.

He has to find them, they can’t have gone far- but then, he doesn’t know how long he’s been in the ground. 

His coat is here, draped over a large staff at the foot of what had been his grave. For comfort more than anything, he puts it on. As he brushes some dirt off the collar, he wonders just how much time has passed.

Awhile, judging by the little rips and tears he doesn’t recognize. He starts to run through a mental list of places they might be, until he realizes he doesn’t even know where  _ he _ is. Molly takes a deep breath. This will be difficult, but he  _ will _ find his family.

After several days of difficult discussions with locals to determine where he even is and a few idle errands in exchange for supplies, Molly is faced with the realization he has no idea where the Nein could be. On impulse, he decides to head to Nicodranas; if nothing else, Marion will be able to send word to her daughter of his presence.

To his surprise, he finds large, colorful murals in nearby towns that resemble his coat. All of them bear Jester’s distinct tag, and it tugs at his heart. She’s still alive. He’s heard a great deal about his friends in his travels, but it’s mostly word about their accomplishments as a group, rarely specifics about the members.

He’s been so anxious, but she’s alive, and making such huge works of art in his honor, and he wants nothing more than to find her and collapse in her arms, safe in her embrace.

Instead, it’s Yasha that finds him- wandering in a field during a storm, letting the rain soak him as he walks.

It’s been a rough few days; he’s allowing himself a moment of self-pity before he gets back on the road. He doesn’t even hear her approach, the thunder is so loud, but being as big as she is, it’s hard for her to go unnoticed.

When her eyes land on him, she doesn’t seem surprised, just folds him into a hug, and he aches.

Being Yasha, she doesn’t ask him any questions, just holds him tight under the grey sky, and Molly, for the first time since he awoke, lets himself weep.

She refuses to let him out of her sight as they wade through the field, which suits him just fine.

“Where are we going?” he asks, taking her hand and threading their fingers together. Traveling by himself for the past several weeks has been so fucking lonely, and her familiar touch is a great comfort.

“The Lavish Chateau,” she answers, squeezing his hand just a bit too hard. “The others, they’re all there.”

Mollymauk nods. Everyone’s alive and safe.

“They told me I was welcome to stay, but I…” She trails off, staring at the clouds. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for up there, but doesn’t press. “I couldn’t.”

Molly leans against her as they walk. “I’m here now,” he says, and she laughs softly.

“You’re here,” she agrees, resting her head on top of his.

He wraps his tail around her waist and hums in contentment. Finally, he’s on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think !! i'm on tumblr @/halftheway and twitter @/halfheway_


	4. that justifies me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reunion time babey :-)
> 
> (this is again a nebulous au that's mostly canon-compliant but i can and will change details because nobody not even god can stop me)

When they make it back to the chateau, finally, Beau punches Molly in the face as soon as she sees him. Apparently him arriving with Yasha wasn’t enough, she needs more proof that it’s actually him. Molly doesn’t blame her, if he were in her shoes he’d be suspicious too.

Yasha moves between them, calming Beau with a hand on her shoulder.

She looks at Yasha, guarded, and Yasha nods. “What the _fuck_?” she says, punching him again. Only in the arm this time, though. He barely has time to react before she’s tackling him into a hug so tight it’s nearly painful.

“Thank you,” she says into his neck, and he doesn’t need to ask what for.

Fjord is less easily placated. He’s not in a fighting stance like Beau had been, but he’s still staring at Molly, brow furrowed. “I’m still not convinced,” he says. “Tell me somethin’ only you and I would know.”

“I’m an open book,” Molly says, aiming to earn a laugh. When he doesn’t, he tries again. “The day after we killed those undead in Trostenwald, you asked about my swords.”

Fjord nods, still looking unconvinced.

“I think I told you something about a volcano? My family were priests, and there was an ice demon,” he continues. “Which is bullshit. Also, I made you buy me a drink the night before.”

“You did,” Fjord says, sighing. He runs a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture of stress. “Molly, what the fuck, man?”

“I know,” Molly says, biting back a smile. “Only me, right?”

Beau snorts. She’s still clinging to Molly, and only moves when Fjord steps closer and wraps his arms around both of them. Tears threaten to well up in Molly’s eyes so he squeezes them shut and buries his face in Fjord’s shoulder. Yasha hangs back, but still takes Molly’s hand. It’s not complete, yet, but it feels so good to be back with his little family.

Eventually Fjord lets them go, and Beau gives Molly one last soft punch to the arm. “Don’t do that shit again.”

“‘Course not,” he answers, pulling her in for another quick hug.

“Love you,” she says gruffly.

He laughs and kisses her cheek. “Love you too.”

“Caleb’s in town with Nott,” Beau says, stepping back and swiping at her eyes. “Looking for books. Nott’s probably stealing. Definitely stealing.”

Molly nods. Nothing’s changed, then. “And Jester?”

“Travelling,” Yasha says. “Working on another mural.”

All alive, all safe. Molly nods and huffs a breath, leaning back against the wall and sliding down. Everyone's alright, and for the most part everyone is nearby. “Any idea when she’ll be back?”

Beau shakes her head. “She didn’t say how long she’d be gone,” she says. She crosses her arms and looks out the window, sullen.

“Should I-”

“I’d wait til she comes back,” Fjord interrupts. “We don’t know who brought you back or why drawin’ attention to yourself in public might not be wise.”

“Fjord,” Beau says, giving him a look.

Molly rubs his temples. He missed them dearly, but absence has not made the heart grow fonder of their bickering.

“If you lost your-” she cuts herself off, shoots a quick look at Yasha before she says, “She should know now."

“It just don’t seem like a good idea,” Fjord argues. “Besides, the middle of a marketplace ain't exactly the best place for a reunion.”

Molly stands, holds up a hand to quiet them. “Nott and Caleb,” he says. “When will they-”

He's interrupted by something crashing to the floor. He turns, and Caleb is standing in the open doorway with Nott by his side, seemingly having dropped the books he was carrying, while Nott stares, open mouthed.

He looks like shit. Well, more like shit than usual. Molly does his best not to wince, instead gives them a small wave.

Nott rushes forward, nearly bowling him over as she collides with his legs. He sweeps her up in a hug, laughing, as she barrages him with questions.

“How are you here? How did this happen? Why did it happen?”

He kisses her forehead, sets her on the ground and takes a knee. “Darling, you know as much as I do.”

Nott takes his hand and continues fussing, exclaiming over the trail of blood coming from his nose.

“Beau’s handiwork,” he tells her, grinning up at Beau, who shrugs. “She wasn't quite sure it was me."

He lets Nott carry on with her questions as he looks past her up at Caleb, who hasn't moved.

“Nott, dear, can you give me a moment?” Thankfully she picks up on it, looks between him and Caleb and nods.

He glances over to Yasha briefly. She gives him a nod of encouragement, and he crosses the room to Caleb, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

“Hello, _schatz_ ,” he says softly, and Caleb doesn't reply. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Beau, ever the wingwoman, ushering everyone else out of the room, and makes a mental note to thank her later.

Caleb still doesn't move or speak, just stares at him.

“It’s really me,” he tries, but gets no reaction. “I’m sorry I left you, love.”

Suddenly Caleb is surging forward and embracing him, murmuring a flurry of Zemnian in his ear. Molly catches a few curses but can’t make out anything beyond that.

“ _N_ _icht mehr davon_ ,” he says, stepping away and tapping Molly’s chest. “ _Um deinetwillen und meiner willen_.”

He opens his mouth to remind Caleb he doesn’t speak the language, but before he can Caleb shakes his head.

“What you did, to save Beau. That was reckless and a little bit stupid,” he admonishes. “No more of it.”

“No more… protecting my friends?” he tries, but Caleb gives him what he’d read as a glare, were it coming from anyone else.

“No more hurting yourself to get the upper hand.”

“I shouldn’t use the one useful ability I have to help win whatever fights we get into?”

“Not if it means you die again, Mollymauk!” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and his tone is calmer when he speaks again. “We had to _bury_ you. _Ich werde dich nicht wieder verlieren_.”

“It’s not like I _meant_ to die, Caleb! I wasn’t- I miscalculated. I can be more careful-”

“ _Nein! Scheiße_ , you don’t-” He steps back from Molly, tugging at his own hair. “Watching you hurt yourself like that, before- that was hard enough. Seeing you _die_ , Mollymauk, I don’t- you can’t keep doing this.”

He’s calling him by his full name, now, and Molly’s suddenly hit by how serious this is.

“We haven’t seen Yasha in months. Beau drinks herself into a stupor every night, Nott right along with her, I can’t remember the last time I slept- …Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” Molly says softly. “I didn’t know- I didn’t think it would- turn out the way it did.”

Caleb nods, but his expression doesn’t change. “None of us did.”

“And I-” He stops and looks down, trying to figure out what to say. “I shouldn’t have kept putting myself in danger like that, before. Either.”

“No, I think not.”

Molly winces. He deserves to be berated like this, certainly, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. Recklessness has always been part of what makes Molly who he is, diving headfirst into everything he does before thinking about consequence, but. Things need to change.

“I am not angry with you,” Caleb says after a moment. His voice is quieter now, and he takes one of Molly’s hands. “It’s just… _Du wirst so geliebt,_ Mollymauk, _mein Schatz, mein Herz_.”

Molly draws in a few shaking breaths, raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Caleb’s knuckles.

“I could not stand to lose you again,” Caleb murmurs, and he pulls Molly into his arms.

Molly goes, too relieved to do anything but hold him back and cry. Gods, he’s missed this. He buries his face in Caleb’s shoulder, presses a few little kisses against his neck. “Never again.”

Time passes, he doesn’t care how much, but he’s startled from their embrace when Caleb speaks suddenly.

“Jester,” he says, pulling back only far enough to see Molly’s face. “She said she would bring you back, but I did not think-”

“It’s the best explanation I’ve heard yet,” Molly says. “If anyone could do this, it would be her.”

“That is what I told her,” Caleb agrees. “How she pulled this off… I don’t think anyone knows.”

“The Traveller, do you think?”

He laughs. “We will have to ask her.”

“How is she?”

Caleb shakes his head. “She has not been handling this well,” he says. He wraps his arms around Molly again and sighs. “Mostly she just paints. I have been trying to look after her, but-”

“'m sure you did the best you could, my love,” Molly tells him. He strokes Caleb’s hair, tries not to cry more thinking about Jester, alone. “I- we can send word to her, or go see her ourselves.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb agrees. He lets Molly go and steps back, staring at him. “Mollymauk.”

“I’m here,” Molly says quietly. He reaches out and takes Caleb’s hand, and presses it to his own chest. “It's me _._ ”

Molly’s impatient to see Jester, eager for the last piece of his life to be fitted back into place, but lets Nott convince him to stay put for the time being and leave in the morning. Though the Chateau is staffed, Caduceus insists on cooking dinner for them all to celebrate Molly’s return, saying something about communion that Molly didn’t fully understand.

He’s hasn’t sorted out his thoughts on Caduceus, yet; he knows the cleric did… something, to his body, while he was dead, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Molly has always been slow to trust, and someone who cast something called _decompose_ on his then-corpse is definitely not earning any favors.

“I am surprised you didn’t just leave on your own,” Caleb murmurs into his ear, bringing him back to himself. “Take off into the night, you know?”

“Self-preservation,” Molly answers, shaking his head a little. He squints at Caduceus through the window into the kitchen before continuing, “It’s a new thing I'm trying.”

Caleb chuckles. “Good.”

Molly looks away from the kitchen and back at Caleb. 

Something about him is different, but Molly can’t quite pin down what; he’s grown out his hair, is finally wearing clean, properly-fitting clothes, but his face… He hadn’t been gone that long, but if he didn’t know better, Molly would say he looked older.

He bumps his shoulder against Caleb’s. He’s here now, and that’s what counts. “Besides, if I’m here, I'm with you.”

Caleb pulls a face that Molly can’t quite read. “ _S_ _cheiße_ , Molly,” he says. He reaches to take a sip of his ale, and Molly gives him the time he needs to string together what he’s trying to say. Caleb furrows his brow as he thinks. “ _Du machst mich so glücklich, meine Liebe,_ ” he says, eyes soft. “ _I_ _ch würde den Rest meines Lebens an deiner Seite verbringen, wenn du mich lässt_.”

“That’s cheating, Mister Caleb,” he tells him softly. “I don’t go telling you important things in Infernal, do I?”

Caleb shakes his head. “I love you, Mister Mollymauk,” he says, and Molly knows that’s not what he’d said before, but he’s not going to ask about it. His eyes well with tears, and Caleb brushes them away when they spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve been doing this a lot since I came back,” he says, laughing a little. “I don’t know why.”

“It happens,” Caleb replies. He hums and rests his head on Molly’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for the gratuitous use of fantasy german y'all. here's the translations tho (from google translate sorry if they're off!)  
> 1) _Nicht mehr davon, um deinetwillen und meiner willen._ \- No more of this, for your sake and mine.  
> 2) _Ich werde dich nicht wieder verlieren._ \- I won't lose you again.  
> 3) _Nein! Scheiße,_ \- No! Fuck,  
> 4) _Du wirst so geliebt, Mollymauk, mein Schatz, mein Herz._ \- You are so loved, Mollymauk, my darling, my heart.  
> 5) _Du machst mich so glücklich, meine Liebe. Ich würde den Rest meines Lebens an deiner Seite verbringen, wenn du mich lässt._ \- You make me so happy, my love. I would spend the rest of my life by your side, if you would let me.


	5. that's laid beside me (pt i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops i went four months without updating,,, but i'm back! (ps note the increased amount of chapters, this one was giving me a hard time so i wrote a bunch more and split it)

Jester’s still adjusting to the person Molly’s death has shaped her into.

Most days all she wants to do is hide in bed, but a restless energy still brims under her skin, one she’s unfamiliar with. As much as she loves being home again after so long, there are reminders of Molly everywhere she looks.

So she begins travelling. Slowly, and never straying too far from Nicodranas, but leaving nevertheless. 

It’s not like she doesn’t have reasons to stay; her mother and Beau and Caleb are still there. They need her, she knows, everyone does. Her job has always been cheering them up, but she’s out of cheer to give, and she’s not so sure they’ll want this hollowed-out Jester around.

It’s easier, almost, to pull away. Having to look her friends in the eye and pretend like she doesn’t have pieces missing just feels wrong. The towns near Nicodranas are small but lovely, if she ignores everything she wishes she could show Molly, and on her third trip from the Chateau she begins another mural. It picks up from there, and she spends longer and longer away from home.

She writes, of course, and uses Sending to let her friends know she’s alright, but for the most part she’s on her own, painting more murals in honor of Molly anywhere people will let her (and sometimes in towns where they won’t, if they’re particularly nasty about it).

And she’s lonely.

Jester finds that almost funny; she’s spent most of her life without friends and gotten by just fine, but somehow, once she’d met the Nein, she’d forgotten how to be alright being alone.

While she works on her latest piece, she thinks about Caleb and Beau. Thinks about Caleb’s component pouch when she outlines a skull, about the way the sun glints off Beau’s jade earrings as she puts the finishing touches on a star. It’s not that they aren’t enough for her, that’s never been the case. She’d be more than happy to simply be with them, navigating life together, if it weren’t for Molly.

She carries so much love for him with her everywhere she goes, and she has nowhere to put it now. Things haven’t felt right since he died, and Jester doesn’t know what to do with her grief, her love, herself.

Caduceus would say that death is natural, or something, if she asked, but she  _ knows _ it wasn’t his time. For all that he seemed worldly and experienced, he’d only been around for two years. As himself, anyway, and Jester just doesn’t think it’s  _ fair _ .

There are spells that could do the job easily, everybody knows that, but… Jester’s just not sure she’s powerful enough to make them work. She has the distinct advantage of being the Traveler’s favorite, of course, but even so, she worries she might get something wrong. Living without Molly is hard enough, living with the guilt of having somehow messed up bringing him back would be… impossible.

Besides, if he (or someone else, Jester has been praying to nearly every deity she can think of) has heard her prayers and is working on a miracle, it would be rude of her to interrupt.

If she’s not working on murals, she’s got her nose in books researching, and she ends most days more tired than she can remember ever being. Today’s been especially taxing, and she trudges into the inn she’s staying at without even waving at the barkeep as she crosses the tavern to head up the stairs.

Before she can, she hears someone call her name. It almost sounds like-

No. She doesn’t turn around. Her ears are playing tricks on her, that’s all. She ignores the voice and continues to make her way across the room, determinedly keeping her eyes on the floor as she goes. Until she runs right into someone.

Her apology dies on her lips as she looks up.

“Jester,” Molly says again, a smile on his face.

Caleb is behind him, looking concerned, and she stumbles away from them both, shaking her head.

“If this is you, Traveller, that’s- that’s really mean,” she says, looking around the room for any sign of him. There’s no response. He  _ always _ lets her know when he’s playing tricks, but if this isn’t him-

“Molly?”

Even to her own ears, her voice sounds wobbly, and she looks at Caleb, the one thing she’s mostly certain is real.

“It’s him,” he confirms, giving her a nod.

She looks back at Molly, and he takes a step closer. With shaking hands, she reaches out to touch his face. He’s warm, like always, and he presses into her touch.  _ Thank you, _ she silently prays.  _ Whoever did this, thank you. _

“Hi,” he says softly, taking another step.

“Molly,” she repeats, unable to find any other words.

He turns his head to kiss her palm, and the tears that have been pricking at her eyes finally spill over. Molly pulls her into a hug, lets her cry, as caleb’s hand comes to rest on her back, tentative but steady.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

She does, and eventually her sobs turn into small hiccups as Molly holds her and Caleb rubs her back.

Jester leads them to her room in a daze, not letting go of Molly’s hand. He kisses it when they arrive at her door, so familiar it makes her ache. 

She leads them in, taking in the room as they must see it: modest, sparse; her bag and spare supplies are tucked neatly beside the bed that even to her eyes looks untouched. There’s really no sign she’s been staying here, which is how she’s preferred to keep it.

“This room is actually kinda terrible,” she says, and Molly laughs from behind her. There’s a sharp pain in her chest, and for some reason she needs to be alone  _ right now _ . “You guys wait here, I have to go… clean up my stuff from the mural,” she says. It’s the best excuse she can come up with, and it totally sucks.

“We could come with you,” offers Caleb. Beside him, Molly’s nodding. “Help you carry things, if you need?”

“It’s okay!” Jester summons all the cheer she can and smiles, turning back to face them. “I’ll be back in, like, five minutes, okay?”

She doesn’t give them a chance to answer before she brushes past them and leaves the inn at a run. It takes until she passes an empty gazebo nearby for her energy to run out; she stumbles up the few steps and slumps to its floor.

“Traveler?"

There's no response, but she continues.

"Did you bring him back for me? Did I- is this for good?" Quiet prayer is rarely her style; why keep her voice down when talking to her best friend? Today she can't make it go much louder than a whisper.

It seems he’s heard her anyway; a familiar figure appears in front of her. She bolts up immediately.

“You’re here!”

The Traveler nods in that slow, steady way of his, and despite herself she giggles.

“Did you see all my murals?”

“Indeed I did.”

“I made them for Molly,” she says. “I missed him  _ so  _ much, and I didn’t- I didn’t know how to ask. Did you- I mean, I think you did because i don’t know how else it would’ve happened- did you bring him back for me?”

She searches the dark space under the hood for any change in expression, but his bright green eyes are unchanging. He nods after a moment, though.

“Oh, I knew it!” Jester claps her hands together and holds them under her chin, looking up at him. “Is he back for good now, though? Or is it just for, like, a little while?”

He laughs. “This is for good, child.” He reaches out and touches her cheek, and the familiar comforting warmth of his presence washes through her.

“Thank you,” she says softly. He nods again and she closes her eyes, happily leaning into his touch. When she opens them again he’s gone, but in his wake are a few flower petals stirring in a sudden breeze.

She gathers each one of them and carefully puts them in between the pages of her sketchbook to press for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise the rest of this is mostly written, just needs a bit of editing & it'll be yours!

**Author's Note:**

> u already know this is being posted at 230 am so if there's any glaring errors please forgive me they will be corrected when i reread this with a fresh pair of eyes


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